


falling, but not alone

by Meskeet



Series: time, passing (ellie/dina oneshots) [2]
Category: The Last of Us
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Dorks in Love, F/F, Families of Choice, Furthering the Gay Agenda, Light Smut, Minor Injuries, Not Beta Read, Post-Canon Fix-It, Post-Game(s), Romantic Fluff, Spoilers, angst and fluff and very light smut, help i've fallen for these two and I can't get up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:49:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25102708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meskeet/pseuds/Meskeet
Summary: Post-credits, game spoilers ahoy.The farmhouse, and glimpses of starting anew. Ellie/Dina, the process of healing together and falling in love all over again.Enjoy it while it lasts, Ellie tells herself, as though she’s ever been very good at that.
Relationships: Dina/Ellie (The Last of Us)
Series: time, passing (ellie/dina oneshots) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1815994
Comments: 26
Kudos: 233





	falling, but not alone

**Author's Note:**

> You all asked, hopefully I delivered. 
> 
> If you haven't read the oneshot in the series before this - it's definitely not necessary. Just know everything happens post-credits, with Ellie and Dina deciding they would like to try to reconcile. No particular warnings, just a very light smut scene and Ellie and Dina figuring out healthier ways to handle relationships.
> 
> Title from "Make Them Gold" - CHRVCHES.
> 
> This was supposed to be a short lighthearted aside to my time loop fic with Ellie trying to save Joel, but alas. I got carried away.

Ellie and Dina move back into the farmhouse after it’s all over.

It feels like a stranger’s home all over again, as though they hadn’t spent months trying to make it theirs the first time around. Maria sighs dramatically when they ask for her to send help – but it only takes one trip for them to realize that bringing all of Dina’s things back in won’t let them fall back into the rhythm of before. At night, Ellie sleeps in JJ’s room more often than not, listening to the sound of his breathing in the crib across the room and pretending like she doesn’t feel like a ghost moving through her – _their -_ house. During the day, Ellie’s sketchbooks slowly settle throughout the house, creeping out of the room one by one. Dina stacks the records back in the living room, carelessly, with an aura of impermanence about the whole thing.

And slowly, they slide from two different rooms into one, until more often than not they fall asleep curled around one another and Ellie sleeps better than she has in years.

Not Dina, though, even if they pretend that she doesn’t slip out to walk the house in silence, to put her feet up on the porch and watch the sun tentatively peek above the horizon. Ellie never stops her, pretending like the sound of Dina’s quiet footsteps isn’t enough to send her jolting awake. The thought crosses her mind, sometimes, but then Ellie remembers – they’re still two individuals. Strangers, living in the same house, more than occasionally having sex with each other and raising a kid together. Strangers who were in love so hard they tore themselves to shreds trying to stay together.

The problem, of course, being that Ellie doesn’t think you can just _stop_ loving someone. She can pretend to, but that doesn’t stop her from running her finger’s through Dina’s hair when she’s staring at the ceiling waiting to fall asleep.

Fuck.

If there’s anything Ellie knows, it is that people leave. That’s why she holds onto people so hard, even when she tries her best to keep them at arm’s length. Sometimes it doesn’t matter how hard you try not to let go, though – some things just end anyway, and fuck if Ellie doesn’t know better than to try to hold onto this. Fuck if Ellie doesn’t know that second chances sometimes never are really chances after all.

Enjoy it while it lasts, Ellie tells herself, as though she’s ever been very good at that.

* * *

“Were our plates always this ugly?” Ellie asks one day, knees-deep in the boxes Dina had haphazardly flung into the rafters of the barn before moving out. Dina squints up at her, a split in the roof just at the right angle to send sunlight into her eyes.

“Maybe you’re getting picky in your old age,” Dina says, frowning, JJ tucked against one hip. He’s getting a little too big for them to do it much longer, but that doesn’t stop them from trying to get away with it for as long as they can. “Please don’t tell me you’re already bored.”

It comes out more accusatory than she intends and Ellie is bristling almost by the time the words are out of Dina’s mouth.

“That’s not what I said,” Ellie says, sounding hurt. “I-”

“Ellie,” Dina sighs. “Come down here. Please.”

For a moment, she wonders if Ellie’s going to refuse and what alternative she’ll find if she does. It’s not as though there’s many places to run from Dina when they live in the same house, no matter how hard Ellie’s been trying recently. While Ellie thinks it over, Dina moves a few feet away, placing JJ in the makeshift playpen they’ve set up for him to use while they’re working in the barn.

Behind her, Ellie’s feet lands with a thud on the dirt.

By the time Dina turns back around, Ellie’s almost done trying to conceal the way her hand had crept up to one of the newer scars by her hip, the one Dina still hasn’t heard the full story about. A few weeks ago, Ellie wouldn’t have been able to do that jump at all.

“What?” Ellie asks, more than a little defensively.

Dina thinks it over for a moment – on one hand, she _could_ confront Ellie. It’s guaranteed to leave all three of them upset and defensive when she hadn’t intended to make an issue out of anything at all. On the other hand, Dina could wait until another day to make her point.

“Come here so I don’t have to shout at you,” Dina says. And there it is again – that little flinch, the slight hunch of Ellie’s shoulders in wariness before she moves closer.

Dina’s eyes flicker to Ellie’s hand dropping from her hip. _New wounds becoming old scars,_ she thinks.

When Ellie’s in grabbing range, Dina kisses her, sliding her tongue over Ellie’s bottom lip. For a moment, Ellie doesn’t move at all, and then she melts closer, one hand firmly digging into Dina’s sides. Dina brings her hands to either side of Ellie’s face, pulling her closer, kissing her as though she’s never kissed Ellie before. Ellie kisses her as fiercely back, a desperation Dina hasn’t felt since coming back to Jackson, as though Ellie is trying to prove something to her.

Together, they shift into something slower, more sensuous, as one of Dina’s legs slide between Ellie’s. Ellie groans a little, the fingers of her left hand digging firmly enough into Dina’s hip that she won’t be surprised to find bruises tomorrow. Dina touches the tip of her tongue to the crook of Ellie’s shoulder, smiling as Ellie stumbles a little, off balance. _Delicately_ , she thinks. _Handle with care._

She’s not sure where they would’ve gone next, because JJ makes a small noise from the playpen. Ellie steps back fully, and Dina almost shivers from the absence of heat. “I, uh- I’ll start bringing the plates down.”

Dina stares after her as Ellie climbs – flees? – back up the ladder. She takes a slow breath before turning back to JJ.

Okay, then. This’ll be more difficult than she thought.

* * *

They find an old apple tree on the property in the fall, the bottom picked clean by deer long before they get to it. Ellie lifts Dina up on her shoulders and holds her, hands clenched over her legs until their bucket is overflowing with fruit.

“I hope you’re volunteering to carry all of this back,” Dina says, laughing hard enough that Ellie can barely keep them both upright.

“Hey, you’re the one picking them,” Ellie protests. “What are we supposed to do with all of these apples anyway?”

“They’ll keep long enough to give some to Maria when we pick up JJ,” Dina says from above her. “Hey, can you get me a little higher? I want to – Ellie!”

Ellie grins as she boosts Dina up, grunting as one of Dina’s feet scrambles for a hold and knocks her in the back. Dina’s weight leaves her abruptly enough that Ellie finds herself reaching automatically into the empty space left behind.

“Catch!” Dina says, and Ellie just barely stops the apple from hitting her in the face.

They toss apples back and forth for a while, before Dina abruptly drops out of the tree and into Ellie’s arms. Ellie staggers under the weight of the two of them, arms locking just in time to brace Dina. Dina smiles down at her, her eyes sparking with mischief.

“Hey there,” she says, cheerfully.

“Hey is for-”

Dina rolls her eyes and cuts Ellie off with a kiss. Ellie grumbles a little around it, but can’t help her lips turning up in response.

Somehow they end up naked, sprawled across the blanket they’d eaten lunch on earlier. Dina leans over Ellie, tracing her scars one by one with her tongue.

“You know I got that from an arrow, this shouldn’t be attractive at all.” Ellie says with a gasp, and it’s unfair how her skin feels like it’s on fire under the soft tickle of Dina’s laugh. “You-”

“Do you want me to stop?” Dina asks, her fingers trailing down the scar on Ellie’s hip.

“Fuck no,” Ellie says, her laugh quivering.

Dina pauses, her teeth grazing where Ellie’s shoulder meets her neck. “Then what do you want, Ellie?”

 _You,_ Ellie means to say, but it comes out as, “Anything.”

Ellie’s not one to reject a kiss, not from Dina. But it still feels strange, as if this is easier than talking these days. Dina runs her fingers over Ellie’s bones, the bend of her waist, the small of her back, then trails back around to slip lower. Ellie shivers, maybe from the cool fall breeze but maybe also from the way Dina’s fingers curl inside of her.

Dina smiles, gives one last kiss, and then moves between Ellie’s legs to go down on her.

“God,” Ellie feels her hands clench against the blanket, aching with the need to bury them in Dina’s hair. She doesn’t want to touch Dina like this, doesn’t want Dina to feel the stumps of her fingers run against her skin the way Ellie used to do before.

Dina pauses for a moment, tongue swirling around Ellie’s clit. “You going to just lie there?” she teases.

Ellie’s huff of a laugh is all the oxygen she has left, her head spinning. When she tentatively twists her fingers in Dina’s hair, she feels more than _hears_ Dina’s contented hum, as Ellie holds on as desperately as she can.

Ellie tries to say something snarky, but can’t, shuddering as Dina slides two fingers inside of her. Dina doesn’t tease it out, even as Ellie tries to make it last, but fucks her with every trick they’d learned from one another last year. Before she knows it, she’s coming against Dina’s face, her mouth, but Dina doesn’t let her go until Ellie’s legs are shaking and she finds the breath to gasp, “Stop – please.”

Dina pulls away, looking smug and content while Ellie tries to get her breathing under control. “Come here,” Ellie says, pulling Dina back into her lap. Her right hand slides between Dina’s legs, teeth nipping against Dina’s collarbone until Dina is rocking against her.

Ellie isn’t sure what Dina needs from her – but by the end of it, Dina is panting, eyes bright and hair fallen free of its ponytail. After she comes, trembling, they sprawl back on the picnic blanket in a sweaty tangle of limbs and Dina kisses Ellie again, slowly this time.

“I need to make more puns if that’s going to happen every time,” Ellie says, tracing lazy patterns on Dina’s ribs until she finds a particularly ticklish spot.

Dina mumbles something against her, the words unintelligible but sounding vaguely threatening. Ellie grins, feeling surprisingly light. “What was that?”

“Just put me out of my misery,” she grumbles.

Something drops a little out of Ellie at that, the buoyant happiness beginning to drain away in the face of reality. “Hey,” she says, slowly. “Are you happy?”

Dina gives her that look, the one Ellie is all too used to that says _why do you always want to talk after sex?_ It’s familiar enough to be almost comforting. “Do you really want to talk about this now?”

“We’re _never_ going to talk about it, Dina,” Ellie snaps, frustrated. Because – it’s been _months_ at this point, months of Dina starting conversations and then changing the subject when Ellie tries to find the right answers. “Every time we start a conversation you just want to – make out or have sex or go look after JJ and-”

“Ellie,” Dina sits up. She’s not loud, but there’s a core of steel in her voice. Ellie pulls back a little, the inches between them feeling like miles. “I _am_ happy.”

Ellie takes that information. Turns it over for a moment, trying to fit the words in her mind and let them take on an air of truth. “Oh.”

“But I don’t think you are.”

“Of cou-”

“Ellie,” Dina sounds a little exasperated. “I love you. But please don’t try to lie to me. I’ve been trying to find out the best way to ask but – well, every time I try to start a conversation you go running. What are you afraid of?”

Ellie doesn’t say anything for a moment, or move. She lays back into the picnic blanket, tentatively reaching out to grasp Dina’s hand. Dina squeezes hers, gently, as though she’s worried any amount of force will shatter Ellie into pieces.

And… maybe Dina’s right. Not about Ellie shattering, because that’s happened again and again, but about Ellie running. Because maybe Ellie’s spent so long trying to hang onto everybody – to Joel and Tommy and Riley and Dina and even Abby, as fucked up as it was – that she’s convinced the second she relaxes, they’ll disappear, no matter what anybody wants.

 _I can’t lose you,_ Ellie thinks, but the words aren’t right. Because she’s lost everyone, before, and survived. “I don’t want to lose you,” she says, watching a meteor trace its way across the sky, a small flicker of wayward light. “I – not because of something I’ve done. I don’t know what to do.”

It feels like an admission of guilt.

Dina slides slower, brings their intertwined hands up to rest on Ellie’s chest. Her eyes soften, glittering with starlight. “You don’t have to do anything. Just _live_ , Ellie. And carry all those apples back.”

“Oh _fuck_ you.”

* * *

Sometimes Ellie remembers snow, the taste of tile against her lips, the intricate pattern of ice tracing across the large window, the greyscale light; mostly she remembers the taste of blood and salt, hitting the ground and feeling her head, her heart go rattling.

Sometimes she traces the wood of her bow and all she can think about is the damned deer. The winters blur together in her memory, the desperate belief that as long as she tries hard enough, as long as she finds the right move, that Joel will be okay.

Dina had asked earlier in the year if she was _bored_ , but that wasn’t the right word for it. Restless, like her skin’s on fire and if she stops moving, time will catch her. As fall slowly creeps by, Ellie can’t quite help but shake the feeling that time is slipping away from her grasp. She barricades the farm around them, shoring up drafts in the barn and checking their supplies religiously. Dina watches her warily, but doesn’t comment except to bring out a new stash of nails. Together they work side by side, occasionally laughing when Ellie manages to hit her own hand with the hammer.

 _I love you,_ Ellie writes in her sketchbook one morning next to a doodle of Dina with a lamb sitting on her lap. _I love you I love you I love you –_ she writes, but when she tries to speak into the empty room, she can’t quite find the words.

The threat of winter hangs heavy in the air on the morning when Ellie finally thumps down the stairs. She’s wearing her heavy workman’s boots, the same ones that took her to California and back. Dina’s at their dining table, mug in front of her as she stares at an old painting they haven’t quite gotten around to replacing yet. Her head rests in her palm, fingers idly spinning the cup in front of her, and she looks as beautiful as the first time Ellie saw her.

She looks at Ellie, then, eyes lingering on the boots and the bow in her hand. Ellie catches her expression, the slight flicker, and blurts out first: “I’ll be back in a few days. Another one of the sheep went missing last night when I rounded them up, and I want to make sure the outer fence is fine in case coyotes are getting through.”

Dina mulls over possible responses to that and settles on - “Okay.”

Ellie raises an eyebrow, steps forward and hesitantly raises her arms. Dina sinks against her, the warmth of the hug warding off the early winter chill for a few moments more. “Okay.” Ellie says. She isn’t sure if it’s a statement or a question.

She leans forward, kisses Ellie gently along the raised scar along her jaw. “I’ll see you in a few days,” she says resolutely. “Be careful.”

Ellie nods, eyeing her carefully, “okay,” she says again. “I guess-”

Dina cuts her off with another kiss, for a moment anchored into Ellie’s specific gravity. “I’ll see you soon,” she says, fiercely.

Ellie smiles, the wary edge almost gone. “Yeah. You will,” she responds, and it sounds like a threat and a prayer all in one.

* * *

Snow falls overnight two days after Ellie leaves, blanketing the ground in frigid and icy sheets. JJ cries once when his hand sticks to the window, condensation freezing him momentarily in place. Dina rounds up the sheep one by one until they’re nestled in the barn, huddling tight together in a way that makes Dina almost jealous.

 _Fine._ She is jealous. Ellie had left the heavier of the two coats behind, clearly not expecting the snowfall, but even that doesn’t entirely ward off the chill or the way the air freezes going into her lungs. Dina stomps from the barn to the house and back again each morning, cursing as she shoves her hands deep into her pockets. The sheep glare back at her when she yells at them, too stupid to be properly grateful.

The nights fall earlier than ever and it never fails to surprise her when she realizes she’s been squinting at the letters in front of her in the gathering gloom. Dina heats up the stove, watching JJ creep closer for warmth and stops him from burning his hands just in time. She heats up just enough cider for two, and catches herself opening her mouth to call Ellie’s name just in time.

Closes it, blows on one just enough to cool it, and allows JJ a sip instead. They huddle on the couch together, Dina flipping through a battered picture book and pointing at different dinosaurs until JJ grows bored and cries.

“Yeah, kiddo,” Dina says, swinging him up to carry him upstairs. He giggles in surprise, grumbling turned to glee. “Me too.”

* * *

Ellie comes back on the fifth day, snow dusting over the light coat she’d taken and lips blue with cold. The itch under her skin is long gone, and all Ellie wants to do is curl up next to the fire with Dina and JJ.

Dina meets her halfway, bursting out the porch door and flinging herself in Ellie’s arms with enough momentum that Ellie almost falls backwards. Ellie smiles as she kisses her, cold fingers pressing against the small of Dina’s back until Dina is pressing closer in an effort to get away from her grasp.

“You asshole,” she says, thumping her fist lightly against Ellie’s chest. But then she smiles, looking up at Ellie – tender and hesitant. Her hair is pulled back, a few strands framing her face, which is tender and sad and delighted all at once even as it begins to blotch from cold. Ellie considers Dina - socks quickly soaking through with cold, a faded Henley, coatless and scarfless, and fingers poking through the holes in her gloves. With a decisive nod, she sets down her back and sweeps Dina off her feet. “Hey!”

“Couch or snow,” Ellie says. “You can pick which one I drop you on.”

Dina laughs, and then they’re both tumbling. Somehow Ellie lands on the bottom of the heap, pinned in place just long enough for Dina to shove a handful of snow under the collar of her jacket. Ellie rolls her hips, throwing her weight just enough to end with her knees on either side of Dina’s hips.

“That is _not_ what I meant.”

Dina smirks back up at her, slow and satiated by victory. “ _Now_ we can go inside.”

Ellie pulls them both out of the cold and, together, her and Dina stumble inside. Dina complains but doesn’t struggle as Ellie peels off the soaked socks. Ellie goes upstairs, reappearing with a towel that she uses to slowly rub Dina’s feet dry. The bite scar on her palm shines silver when it catches the light. Dina doesn’t look back at Ellie, but watches the scar instead. For once, Ellie doesn’t feel the urge to hide it – just continues to work methodically, toe by toe, until the color has begun to return to normal.

“What?” Ellie says, when she looks up again and sees Dina watching her.

“You’re just cute, that’s all,” Dina says.

Ellie can feel the blush, feel the way it stains her face and warms her through the snow still dripping down her back. “Shut up,” she mutters under Dina’s laugh, and for a moment she’s back to the first night, the bar’s lights glittering like starlight, and the weight of Dina’s hands on her shoulders, trapping her inside the irresistible force that has always just been _Dina_.

* * *

Ellie sniffles her way through the first weeks of December, shivering under a pile of blankets so heavy that Dina wonders how she breathes under the crushing weight of it all. Dina catches her trying to sneak outside to take care of the sheep and is there to catch her when she almost falls over carrying the pail of food. 

“You’re burning up,” she says with a frown, as Ellie coughs, wet and sharp. Dina grips her elbow, keeping on course until they maneuver their way successfully into the house. Ellie’s shirt is soaked through with sweat, hands slick as, she – forever skeptical of genuine concern, apparently - tries to bat Dina away.

Taking the stairs seems insurmountable, so Dina lowers her onto the couch instead. She tucks the blanket in place around Ellie, which doesn’t seem quite enough, and pulls out their spares from the linen closet. By the time she returns, piling them one by one on top of Ellie until the shape of her disappears under the mass, Ellie’s eyes have already drooped closed again. Dina sits on the edge of the couch, brushing a few wayward strands of hair free from where sweat has slicked them in place.

Ellie blinks up at her, mumbling something that sounds like _sorry_.

“The only thing you have to apologize for,” Dina says, “is going outside like this in the first place.”

Ellie mumbles something that Dina isn’t charitable enough to interpret, pulling the quilt more tightly around herself. As if the effort of speaking sapped all her energy, Ellie’s eyes slide closed once again. Dina distracts herself from hovering by preparing soup, pulling out cans of broth Maria had prepared for them both in the fall, and adding dried vegetables until it tastes palatable.

Ellie wakes long enough that night to sip at some soup from the smug and to worry about Dina. Dina smiles, and catches the mug before it drops from Ellie’s hand to the floor when she falls asleep once more.

Ellie’s fever drags out long enough that Dina starts to try to plan a route to Jackson – JJ would need to come with her, and she’s not sure she has enough gear in his size to keep him warm for a longer ride. It’s an oversight, one they’d never really considered, and she hunts through the rooms for a better jacket until she finally has to concede defeat.

It’s when she’s reluctantly moving boxes in Ellie’s room that she finds Ellie’s backpack, retrieved from where Dina had tackled Ellie into the snow. It weighs more than she expects – after a moment of hesitated, she zips it open.

She can’t help but laugh. Six carefully wrapped plates are nestled behind the rest of the supplies Ellie had taken with her. Dina pulls the old newspaper free, examining the porcelain. Ellie _had_ been right – their old plates were ugly. She just isn’t sure this set is any better.

“Dumbass,” she mutters. If she wraps it carefully back in newspaper before placing it back in the pack and walks downstairs with her step lightened… well, no one is there to tell.

* * *

As winter deepens, Ellie’s cough slowly fades into nothing more than memory. The nights slowly begin to grow shorter as Ellie and Dina continue to orbit around one another. At night, they burn charcoal in an old grill Ellie had restored over the summer, sitting on the porch with JJ as fresh snow falls around them. When the cold seeps a little too deeply, they retreat inside, watching ice slowly harden on the windowsill. Dina heats cider for the both of them, pretending not to listen to Ellie’s fumbling attempts to bring old melodies to life in the worn strings of Joel’s guitar.

Even as the cough fades, Ellie’s energy seems to lag behind. As Dina reads old storybooks to JJ, Ellie dozes in her lap. Together, they whittle away at the winter, falling asleep in a tangle of limbs under the old quilt Maria had sent to the two of them last fall. Some mornings, Dina returns from feeding the sheep to find Ellie still asleep in bed, half curled in on herself, and slips back into place by her side. Some mornings, Ellie doesn’t seem to notice at all.

“You’re cold,” she grumbles, though she doesn’t move away from the arm across her waist. Dina trails her fingers – which, to be fair, _are_ cold, she’d forgotten to wear gloves – up Ellie’s ribs, following the topography of scars she’s well familiar with. Ellie makes a noise of disgust and rolls over, somehow ending up curled closer into Dina.

Dina’s hand settles over the scar on Ellie’s hip – the one that Ellie had mentioned in idle conversation when JJ had tripped over a tree root while playing. She doesn’t flinch like she would have just a few months ago, just tucks her head below Dina’s collarbone, and lets out a sleepy sigh. Dina continues to follow the roadwork of the ragged edge – it had been slow to heal over, puffy and infected so badly that Dina had almost been convinced it ever would. Still, slowly the inflammation had retreated, leaving just the impression behind. Dina doesn’t think it’ll ever disappear, not completely, but that’s never really been the point.

* * *

In the spring, Ellie and Dina watch JJ chase the lambs in circles from the porch, curled up on an old wicker sofa together that’s seen more years than they have. Some mornings when Ellie starts to worry about supplies, Dina sends her out until she comes back with a heavy pack – often laden with necessities, but always with small trinkets that caught Ellie’s eye. Dina always smiles with delight when Ellie pulls them out with a flourish.

Dina makes a noise when she tips her head against Ellie’s shoulder. “Your hair’s getting long,” she says matter-of-factly.

Ellie shrugs as best as she can, closing her eyes to the sound of JJ’s laughter and Dina’s fingers running through her hair. She doesn’t think of it, not past the point of swearing when it falls into her eyes while she’s elbows deep in the tractor. “It’s been getting in the way.”

“I’m not surprised,” Dina says. “Want me to cut it?”

“Sure.”

Neither of them move.

“Maybe later,” Dina says. “We can figure it out.”

* * *

Dina comes back from a supply run to Jackson on horseback, wincing as she slides to the ground. She can hear the sound of Ellie rushing over, JJ protesting loudly, and isn’t surprised in the slightest when she bumps into Ellie halfway up the porch step.

“Dina?”

“Took a fall crossing the creek when I was almost to Jackson,” Dina says, not bothering to conceal the limp as she pushes past Ellie. “Got it looked at, but felt it open back up about an hour ago.”

Ellie flutters around for a moment and then vanishes, presumably in search of the first aid kid. It isn’t objectively bad, not when Dina considers the scale of the injuries the two of them have lived through. Still, Ellie inspects and disinfects Dina’s calf with the utmost sincerity, shushing her when Dina points out that they should save their disinfectant for something that matters. Ellie shoos her from the dining table to the couch, bringing down a frankly ridiculous number of pillows to prop Dina and her stupid leg up.

“Ellie, I’m _fine,_ ” Dina says. “Sit down.”

Ellie flops into their rocking chair, crossing her arms and scowling at Dina.

“ _What?”_ Dina growls, when it becomes clear Ellie has no intention of stopping.

“You were gone a long fucking time,” Ellie grumbles. “JJ missed you.”

Dina can feel her lips twitch. “JJ did, huh?”

“Yeah. The kid doesn’t know what to do when you’re gone. S’unhealthy.” Ellie leans back into the chair, looking away from Dina. No – avoiding Dina’s eyes. She looks a bit lost and guarded and more than a little scared, glancing at the door like she’s thinking about hightailing it out of here all over again.

“Come here,” she says, holding out a hand. Ellie doesn’t move until Dina starts to swing her leg off her pillow, and then she trudges over to sit on the edge of the couch. Ellie looks at her then, the way she did the first time they kissed – eyes a little wide, searching, as though Dina has all the answers for the questions Ellie doesn’t know how to ask. Dina realizes, then, that Ellie doesn’t know – that _she_ hasn’t realized, despite it all, how Dina feels about her. That Ellie still doesn’t know how to ask for things, not when she’s afraid of what Dina’s willing to give.

Dina tugs at Ellie, until she’s half collapsed on the sofa with her. Somehow, despite the pillow mountains and Ellie halfheartedly resisting, they end up tangled together.

“This would be a lot more comfortable in bed,” Ellie grumbles, scrunching her nose.

Dina flicks it. “What are you waiting for, then?”

* * *

“How long do you want it?” Dina asks, scissors in hand.

“Uh,” Ellie says intelligently. Dina had brought up the haircut a few weeks ago, and Ellie can honestly say she’s put as much thought into it as she has previous cuts – which is to say, none. “I just need it away from my face.”

“That’s helpful,” Dina’s voice is dry. Ellie meets her gaze in the mirror, raises an eyebrow. “That’s exactly what you said last time and then you complained for weeks.”

“I looked like someone rolled over a hedgehog. I don’t know, maybe a little shorter than last time?”

Dina’s hands work rhythmically through her hair, cutting small sections away until Ellie’s left feeling lighter than ever, hair cut in neat and even layers.

“Practice makes perfect,” Dina says, sounding smug as she runs her fingers through Ellie’s hair.

“Fucking unbearable.”

Dina rolls her eyes and says, teasing, “You know you love it.”

For a moment Ellie freezes, the words catching in her mouth. Dina leans in to press her mouth of Ellie’s, as true as the first time they kissed at the party, and Ellie kisses back as sweetly as she knows how, glad she doesn’t have to try to find the words to put the pieces of them into all the right places.

When Dina pulls away, Ellie swallows, breath caught and words tugged right out of her. 

“Yeah,” she says, squeezing Dina’s hand. And maybe Ellie _doesn’t_ know how to let go, but maybe she’s so used to being left and leaving that she doesn’t know what to do when she doesn’t have to keep trying to hold on; maybe she doesn’t know what to do when they both stay. “Yeah, I do.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please don't hesitate to comment if you enjoyed - this really was only finished and posted due to everyone who left the wonderful encouragement on First Steps First. So if you read that (or this!) fic, thank you sincerely, and even more thanks if you commented!
> 
> I should have mentioned - you can find me on tumblr as justthebones!


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